Alfred paced in his room. He considered what to do and laid out the tools at his disposal. He was only a child, so his physicality was useless. His magic was spent, but he could reconstruct a spell. It would take him some time, but even if he did, his magic wasn’t strong enough to break the door, and he couldn’t interact with anything outside of his vision.
In his room, he had his bed and sheets, books and papers, writing utensils, a lit candle, and his kingless set.
He moved to his kingless set and envisioned each of his tools as pieces. Then, he began to move them. This helped him think.
Nothing. He had no clear way out. He worked on the problem for hours. Drawing ideas and writing theories. He had tried to stick paper through the door to unlock it, but that did nothing. Eventually, he fell asleep.
The next day, he gave up around noon. There was a knock at the door.
“Sir, I am afraid you will have to wait a bit longer. I would bring you some supper, but with your… talents, I am afraid your father warns against it.”
“Damn you, Wesley. Tell me what’s going on. What did the alchemist do? What is he going to do?”
“Do not lose faith. Your father's work will help us. Goodbye, young master.”
Alfred kicked at the door in frustration.
He worked on his spells to pass the time. His room had no windows, but he did have a candle. It was out, to preserve the light. His throat went hoarse from yelling, but no one had come to his rescue.
This was cruel, locking away your child. Alfred had a sense of grim satisfaction. The only reason he was in this situation was because of his magical ability.
The next day, Wesley knocked on the door again.
“Young master, I have brought you some food. This is from me, so please. Don’t do anything foolish.” There was a click and Alfred suddenly felt like a small weight was dropped on his shoulders. He gasped. What was that? Whatever, he needed to ready himself. He would throw the soup in his face with magic, then run.
The door opened. His spell failed. Wesley placed a tray on the floor and scooted it in.
His spell shouldn't just… not work? The butler had something in a hand. A stone orb with runes carved into it. An anchor. Panicked, he tried to enter his status void to try another spell.
It was as though the status void didn’t exist. He had no skills, no magic. Even his attributes didn’t work. His meager strength didn’t help him a lot, but it was noticeable. Now, he was truly weak. This shock only hesitated Alfred for a moment.
He threw himself at Wesley, who easily caught him with one hand.
“Apologies, young master. Truly, this is for the best.” Then he pushed Alfred into the room and shut the door.
The soup, at least, was a pleasant squash and roasted nut soup. He savored every spoonful.
A spoon. He looked at it, then at the kingless board. He had a new piece. A new solution. He got to work.
Alfred sat in a meditative position and focused on his spells. His plans required sacrifice. First, he made his standard levitation spell and copied it twice. He had to get rid of his stored force and control engines. That took him well over an hour already. Now, it was the hard part. He studied the sense engine and control engines. He had memorized these shapes, so he technically didn’t need to keep copies of each engine in his storage spaces. But, it was good to get a last look.
Another levitation spell replaced his sense engine. He had all three of his storage spaces filled with the levitation construction. Next, he began to build. Painstakingly, carefully, shape by shape, he created his vision-casting construct. Imagining an engine from scratch required much more focus than simply copying it.
Hours passed by. He could feel his temple throb. If he lost focus, he would have to recreate this all over again. Young mages suffered from this malady. When you have crafted an engine over and over again, it could become like muscle memory. Most mages had one or two common spells they could craft on reflex. Alfred simply hadn’t had the experience. He was still new to magic.
Finally, the spell was done. He paused it then relaxed. His head swam and he leaned back on his bed frame. How long did that take him? Two hours? He needed much more practice.
He looked at his spells. Three levitation spells and his vision spell. Now for the next step. He crawled to the door and tried to look under the gap in the door. Not enough to see, thus not enough to send his vision spell through. So, he took the spoon and started to carve.
The door was made from the same tree that was used to construct most of the home. One of the titan trees, whose trunk was turned into the front gate. This wood was soft. Even the great titans couldn’t hold up their weight if they were made of dense wood. So, he was able to carve into the wood with some effort. His goal was to widen the gap large enough for him to see through.
It still took him an hour. An adult who wasn’t exhausted could probably have done the same in a few minutes.
He looked through the hole he made. His mother would be furious, but… this was an emergency. He cast his vision spell and slipped his awareness through the hole. In the hallway, he turned it around and looked at the door. A bar had been set against it. It was braced behind what Alfred had thought were decorative elements. Now he knew better. This was always a possibility. A prison cell hidden by decorative antlers. How far ahead did the Alchemist plan? He shivered.
With a simple levitation spell, he was able to remove the bar. Two spells down, but two remained. Before he left, he constructed another levitation spell and paused it. Now he had three to use. In an emergency, these spells were his most versatile tool. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use them for anything drastic.
He was ready. The door was open, and he had his spells. Why was he hesitating? He knew what he had to do. Find Victor and never leave his side. He imagined the Alchemist standing over him, a disappointed look on his face and a syringe in one hand. The Alchemist was level 25. Fairly high for anyone, even some adventurers. He gathered most of his experience in the war, which was to be expected. The rest he gathered from his merchant class. Right? Now, Alfred wasn’t so sure.
Then he remembered the tree. This time, he saw his mother’s face in its center.
Alfred steeled himself and left his room.
It was strange, sneaking around his own home. It was morning, the sun started to peak through the windows, but there were no servants to be seen. Where were they? On his way to his brother's room, he spotted a shadow moving down a hall. Instantly, he went through the nearest door.
A medicinal smell hit him first. It was a spare room, one that wasn’t used for anything normally. Now, however, it was occupied.
“Lad?” A hoarse voice said. Laoise. She coughed dryly. “What are ye doing here? Ye can’t be here.” He hushed her with a finger to his mouth. She was lying in the bed, clearly ill.
“What happened?” he whispered.
“A sickness, lad. A plague. Stay back. Everyone but the sick have been sent away… most are in the south wing. So, keep away.”
“A plague? What are the symptoms?” His mother mentioned she was sick. But a plague? Now? Too coincidental.
Laoise removed a cover and pushed her leg off the bed. It thunked to the floor. Still intact, but completely wooden. It had a small leaf growing from it. Alfred gasped and stepped back.
“Now get out of here, unless ye want the same affliction.” Her voice was shaking with desperation. She looked more worried for Alfred than herself.
“Did… did the Alchemist treat you?”
“Aye. Gave me a shot in the arse. Didn’t work, but he said a few more will. I’ll be fine, lad. There are others worse, he’s been tending them too. Now, scamper off.” Alfred felt sick. The prisoner was right. They were next. But… why was this happening now? The Alchemist wouldn’t have known Alfred had discovered the secret until this morning at the earliest.
The Alchemist was getting old, he knew that. He had developed a cough and had spent more and more time resting. Perhaps… perhaps he was running out of time?
Alfred peeked out the door and saw no one. So, he went on. A short time later, he found his brother's room. It was barred just as his was. He pushed the bar off their braces and opened the door. Immediately, a chair soared over him.
“AAGH- Oh, sorry, Al.” Victor was standing, ready for action. He calmed down when he saw him. He looked ragged. He had been locked away too.
“What happened?” He asked.
“Wesley locked me in here. You?”
“Same. Travis?”
“I don’t know. How did you get out?”
“Magic,” Alfred told him. Victor nodded. “The servants are gone. A plague, if you can believe it.”
“Well, I don’t know if that is good or bad. Listen, Al. I need to go back down there. There is something I have to do. I can’t ask you to come.”
“We are brothers. Brothers hunt together.” Alfred smiled at him. Victor gave him a grim nod.
Together they snuck their way through the manor. Most of the servants and guests were gone. But… those that remained had been locked away in rooms as well. The experiments had been upscaled. They found themselves outside. It was a warm evening, but no one was around. Even the dogs were gone. Alfred felt an unexpected flash of rage. Where was HIS dog?
Victor was after a tool shed. He withdrew a large ax from it.
“What is that for?”
“The tree. It’s all that tree’s fault.” He muttered.
“Your moth-”
“That’s not my mother!” Victor snapped. “Not anymore. It spoke to me, Al. I think… I think it is what drove Dad to this.”
“Spoke? Victor… it was a tree.” Alfred said. His brother had a strained look in his eye. He shook his head.
“Come on. We need to get down there. Cut the tree, then we go to Vocaunt. Me and you.”
“We also need to find Mother.” Alfred felt a pit in his stomach. Victor didn’t mention what they were going to do with the Alchemist. He must have gone mad but he didn’t deserve an ax. Alfred hoped the tool was truly for the tree.
This feeling followed him to the dungeon.
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The stench from below seemed more alive than before. As though it was the warm breath of a hungry beast. Together, Alfred and Victor descended.
The laboratory was lit, and muttering echoed off the walls. Victor gripped his ax tighter.
In the cells were people Alfred recognized. Servants. Victors friends. Even some adventurers. All of them were completely still and made of wood.
Travis was among them. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, but he made no noise.
Finally, they were standing before him.
The Alchemist.
He was muttering, not paying attention. A woman was strapped to the medical table, she was asleep.
“Alchemist.” Victor hissed. The Alchemist turned around, shocked. His hair was wild, his eyes sunken in. They flashed between them, then around the room.
“Boys… you are here. Good. Good. Vic-” His eyes snapped to Alfred. “Alfred. I am close. So, so close.”
“What have you done?” Alfred asked. His voice shook only slightly. Victor gripped the ax and moved forward slowly.
“I’ve solved the form issues. They are biped. Humanoid. Just… just… not flexible. Alive, yes! Undying. So… so close.” The Alchemist had god mad indeed. He was muttering. Suddenly, he stopped. One ear was cocked up, as though listening to something. He smiled broadly. “Yes! Yes! Of course.”
“Move, Alchemist. I am going to take down the tree.” Victor moved to walk around him, but his father ran to intercede.
“You can’t! She gave me the secrets… she is guiding me to my- OUR, to our immortality. I will take you with me. Both of you. And my wife.” He held out his arms to block Victor.
Victor pointed a shaking ax at him.
“What did you do to my mother?” Victor asked, slowly.
“A tragedy, yes. But… we learned from that mistake. I couldn’t do the first experiment on myself.” The Alchemist laughed. “She was close. The soul of the tree… but not the immortality. Just one variable off.”
It clicked for Alfred. The madman was trying to obtain immortality through alchemy. He was trying to distill the agelessness of the great Titans into an alchemical transfusion. He could have asked Alfred half a decade ago, and he would still have known it was foolish.
While they were distracted, Alfred ran to the girl. She was naked and strapped to the table by leather straps. Tubes fed into her arms and her legs.
“No! We need every subject possible!” He dashed to the center. Victor was still. He was in shock. The ax had drifted to the floor.
Alfred fought with the straps. He didn’t know her, but if he could save someone from this madness, he would. The Alchemist threw him to the side. Then he twisted a valve on the bags above her.
“See, see how close I am!”
The girl, a servant probably, suddenly writhed, as though in pain. Her body shook and her veins bulged. Alfred watched in horrid fascination as her skin bubbled and hardened. It darkened and grew thick, bark-like wrinkles. At the last moment, her eyes snapped open and she screamed. It was over in a matter of minutes. She had become a living wood statue. Alfred shook from the terror of it. Her humanity was stripped from her in moments. Forever. An eye turned to look at him, pleading. She was still alive. Imprisoned in her own bark.
“See! She kept her form. We can learn to adapt to bark skin… but they stay as living wood, even without light or water. We need more time…” The Alchemist was pointing at various points on her body. Alfred glared at him. This was a monster. A madman.
Alfred backed away and ran into someone. A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He looked up to see Wesley.
“Wesley… why? Why go along with this madness?” Alfred pleaded.
“Loyalty, young master. I promised to serve your father for all eternity. In exchange, he will grant me immortality. You too, and Victor.”
Victor had recovered. His eyes hardened with resolve. Then, he walked toward the tree.
“Wait, no, no, no.” The Alchemist pulled a bottle from his coat. He drank as he chased after him. With each stride, the Alchemist grew. Muscles bulged. One eye grew massive. His clothes were ripped and shredded under the bulk. He had transformed into a monstrous form. “Stop!” His voice was deep and malicious. A thick hand grabbed Victor and hurled him back.
Alfred tried to move forward, but Wesley was stronger than he looked.
“See? The power of my master? That is only a fraction of what he could do. You should have seen the infusions from the war… the monsters he made. Exquisite.”
Alfred bit his hand, but Wesley only shifted his grip. He teared up as he watched his brother fight.
Victor recovered from the fall and stood. The Alchemist approached slowly, arms outstretched.
“We needn’t fight, son.” He said. Victor swung the ax, but the beast jumped back.
Alfred cast his spell. He used force to pull on the beast's leg as he moved. He fell flat on his face.
Wesley slapped him in the head and he lost his spell. Victor didn’t hesitate. He roared and came down with the ax.
But, the beast was too quick. It rolled out of the way and the ax clanged against the floor.
Victor was only level seven. He was no monster hunter, so his one level came from a run-in with a warg while hunting. A story he tells all he could hear. His class was traveler, he wanted to see the world after all. He activated the class's active skill. Runner.
Suddenly, his speed tripled. He ran at the beast swinging the ax wildly.
The beast backed away from the onslaught after standing.
Wesley activated the anchor. Victor sagged during his last swing. The beast was unaffected. Why was it unaffected?
Then, he caught the ax mid-swing. It lifted a fist to backhand Victor.
Alfred used his last spell. Not to slow the hand, but to move Victor's head. It was the best he could do. The result was a glancing blow to the chin, not a full strike to the head. Still, Alfred’s brother flew away and bounced. He wasn’t moving.
“Oh… Oh, I didn’t mean to…” The beast ran to Victor. Alfred struggled and screamed, but he could do nothing. Wesley was a warrior almost as high level as the Alchemist. He had no way to break free. The beast touched Victor's neck, which was twisted further than it should be able to. “He’s still alive. But broken. The transformation will heal him.” The beast dragged him to the table and threw the trapped woman off of it. She soared over the railing and splashed into the water below.
“Stop! You’ll just imprison him!” Alfred called out. His body shook with his heaving breaths.
“No, son. It’s alright. She told me the truth. I developed this alchemy for ME. Victor is of my blood. So are you. It will work! I can see it!”
Alfred could do nothing as Wesley held him tight. He forced him to watch the Alchemist spear Victor with the medical instruments.
He boiled a carefully weighed concoction in a cauldron and placed the tip of a root inside. It changed to an earthy, brown potion.
“Yes… that is correct.” A voice whispered. It came from the tree. From the darkroom, it waited in. The voice was cold and ancient. “Now, begin the procedure. You are so close.” The beast shrunk down into the Alchemist.
“Stop!” Alfred begged. The alchemist flooded his brother with the formula.
Victor screamed and screamed. His bones snapped with the sound of breaking tree limbs as he thrashed on the table. His skin hardened and turned gray.
As he thrashed, roots slithered from the dark. Reaching a probing for Victor. They found him and dug in. The alchemist watched in awe.
Victor's legs twisted and snapped. Then split and split again. They seemed to bloom into the shape of a root ball. From the waist down, it was nothing but tree roots.
Finally, Victor stopped screaming. The roots connecting him to his mother's tree snapped away as he moved.
“Yes! YES! I have done it! Successful, permanent transformation without beast essence. They told me it couldn’t be done, the fools!” The Alchemist cheered.
“Well done, Master. Victor? How do you feel?”
Victor took a deep breath, as though breathing for the first time in centuries. His head slowly rose with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.
“Wonderful. I feel… alive.” He flexed his arms, marveling at his bark-like skin.
Alfred’s world darkened even further. That… was not his brother. It was that thing from the tree.
A demon. The madman had overflowed reality itself and summoned it. How long had it waited? Did the Alchemist know? He scanned his face. It was victorious. The happiest he had ever seen the Alchemist. No. He was blinded by madness.
“What do you think, Brother?” the thing inside Victor's body asked. “Do you wish for immortality as well? Bring him, Wesley.”
“No! NO!” Alfred called. Wesley pushed him towards the table.
“Don’t worry son. It won’t hurt for long.”
Every stab from the tubes stung. He struggled, but Victor held him tight with impossibly strong roots.
The Alchemist gave him a reassuring smile. “We will be a family, forever.” Then turned the valve.
The concoction felt like thick splinters being driven into his veins. Alfred screamed in pain and loss. Victor leaned in and whispered into his ear.
“Don’t worry… child. I will bring you back. I will bring you ALL back.”
Alfred's skin splintered and dried. He could feel his limbs lock and his lungs fill with wood. He couldn’t breathe.
Then he couldn’t move.
“It… it didn’t work?” The Alchemist asked. “That is… disappointing.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” The demon said. Wesley only looked at him with sad eyes.
Alfred could still see and hear. He felt like he needed to breathe, but couldn’t. He didn’t suffocate.
He was placed on display in the laboratory. A reminder of his failures.
Alfred couldn’t close his eyes. Not when they did more experiments together, the Demon and the Alchemist. Dozens of servants suffered the same fate.
He was forced to watch every single one. He watched the improvements and the changes in the process.
When they ran out of servants, Alfred grew hungry. He couldn’t eat or drink.
Then they dragged his mother into the laboratory.
He was forced to watch as she ran to him. Clutching her with hands he couldn’t feel. He looked his mother in the eye as her sanity snapped like a dried twig.
Then, she too, was entombed in wood.
Last was Wesley. His transformation was like the others. He was promised immortality. Instead, he was given hell.
It was just the Alchemist and the Demon left. The demon urged his father that it was time. They made one last change to the formula. The Alchemist’s procedure was somehow… peaceful. He did not become a living wood statue, like all the others. Instead, he grew. His torso thickened and turned golden. His arms became great branches. Even his legs stretched and grew into deep roots. The Alchemist, in the end, had succeeded.
He had attained the immortality of the great Titans.
Days later, Alfred mercifully fell to the hunger.
There was… nothing. No pain. No thought. A silence.
“NO.” A voice demanded. His spirit floated away from his shell. “IT IS MINE.” The voice claimed. The world echoed with its authority. Alfred’s soul slammed back into the shell. Crudely sewn back in my clinging roots and clawing branches.
His body shuddered and moved. But, the soul was weak and scattered. It knew nothing but hunger.
[You have drained - Stormcaller, level 7. Experience Gained. You have gained one Untethered level. Curse expanded. Recollection Available.]
Alfred's soul re-condensed. Awareness flooded back in. He was standing about an old man, holding him by the wrist. Other corpse wood gripped the man as well. But he was the only one aware. He stumbled back, confused. He felt his emotion as a faraway curiosity. Disgust floating outside of him. Intellectually there, but emotionally dim.
“Hey, Prodigy.” A voice said. He turned to find a monstrous corpse wood. The Woodsman. “Welcome to unlife. Let’s get you situated.”
Alfred
True Name: Alfred Varnsach [Family name, Skill Alchemy]
Soul: Mortal Untethered
Genseed: Human [3 Str, 3 Dex, 3 Con, 3 Int, 3 Wil, 3 Cha; +2 skill points Standard Size]
[Class] Level: 3
Awakened Corpse Wood Level: 5 [+2 Int; Unliving [Unnatural flesh (wood)]; -Remove: Mindless Dead]
Attributes (0/6):
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 16
Will: 10
Charm: 8
Feats:
Knowledge: System Knowledge.
Knowledge: Fledgling Mage.
Act: Vile Concoction.
Ability: Mighty Intellect.
Act: Devotion. [Layered Feats]
Skills (0/7):
System Aptitude: 1 [Source: System Knowledge]
Alchemy: 1 [Source: Varnsach family name]
Attribute Boost: Intelligence (+2)
Spell Craft: 2 [Source: Fledgling Mage; Perk: Refined Control]
Construct Capacity: 3 [Perk: Expanded slots x2] (9 slots)
Copy Construct: 1
Pause Construct: 1
Curses (0/5):
Haunt: Titanfall Manor [Poltergeist, Mana Corruption]; YOU MUST REMAIN
Unliving [Unnatural flesh (wood), Unrooted]; YOU CANNOT LIVE
Graveless; YOU MAY NOT REST
Notable Natural Skills:
Research: Apprentice
Biotraits (1/1):
Disease Resistance [Source: Vile Concoction]
Known Magical Components:
Engines: Force, Control, Sense, Connect, Energy
Drives: Efficiency, Focus
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What should we do with the Alchemist?
